


Smart Boy Like You

by niðavellir (KingPreussen)



Series: Biophysics, Relationships, and Other Inscrutable Sciences [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, M/M, Power Imbalance, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-25 02:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingPreussen/pseuds/ni%C3%B0avellir
Summary: "You're sure you can't take a minute out of your day for me?" Quinn reached forward and put his hand on Peter's knee.Revulsion rolled through Peter like a wave of sewage.---Peter's graduate mentor uses their power imbalance for his own gain, and Peter just wants to finish his thesis.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im helping to write an article on sexual harassment, particularly in stem fields, so i was inspired to type this up. peter is a biochemist because _im_ a biochemist
> 
> i expect the rest to be posted in the next few days (im between exams)
> 
> warnings: physical and verbal sexual harassment in the workplace

The organizational structure of Stark Industries Labs left a lot to be desired.

Peter discarded his used micropipette tip in a nearby biohazard bin and stabbed the micropipette a little harder than necessary into the box to get another. His PI, Doctor Quinn, looked up curiously from his own lab bench across the room and Peter didn't know whether to smile or look away. Both actions would probably lead to the older man walking over to talk to him.

In a perfect world, Peter wouldn't have a PI at all. He would report his findings directly to Stark, or work for himself altogether, presenting his findings as a paper that would get published through any number of journals with only his name and the source of his grants.

But Stark had his fingers in a lot of pies, and while he was a genius he didn't have the biochemical knowledge Peter did. And as a graduate student working toward his doctorate Peter needed a PI on his committee to present his thesis in a couple years' time.

Unfortunately, that PI was Quinn. A man who was definitely in his late 50s, flirting heavily with his obviously uninterested 23-year-old _underling_.

The doctor's cell phone rang before Peter could school his facial expression, and Peter dropped his eyes back to his experiment. If he had to deal with one more unwanted comment or uncomfortable touch that day he would probably scream, and it wasn't even lunch time. And if he didn't have his Spider-Man-honed morals, he'd probably invite Deadpool over to introduce Quinn to Bea and Arthur. 

Thinking about Wade made Peter smile despite himself, depositing protein in the next tube. His mercenary boyfriend was on post-mission leave from S.H.I.E.L.D. (" _Mandatory,_ Wade," Peter warned before he left for work, earning an annoyed groan from their bedroom) and probably climbing the walls almost as literally as Peter could with boredom.

Peter's work ethic was the only thing that kept him from spending the day in bed with Wade. His boyfriend was injured in his last mission, part of the reason he was on a week's leave, and despite his insistence that he was fully healed Peter knew he would be getting phantom pains for the next few days at least. Peter's sympathy usually turned into massages, which usually turned into sex, which _always_ turned into sappy talks and cuddles for a few hours.

Suddenly, Peter's spidey-sense rang through his head, knocking thoughts of Wade aside. Not two seconds later there was a large, disgustingly warm hand on his shoulder. "Excellent work, Peter," Quinn said, leaning over Peter's half-filled row of Eppendorf tubes, face entirely too close to be professional. "You've been working hard all morning. Let's take lunch. I know this great little place on 47th--"

Peter looked around frantically, trying to catch the eye of someone else in the lab who he could invite to go with them. Finding no one, all of the other machines off and benches empty, Peter said, "Sorry Dr Quinn, but I have plans." He wasn't sorry, and he didn’t have plans, but it was the first lie he could think of while Quinn's hand moved slowly lower on his back.

"Call me James, Peter," Quinn said, moving away to sit on the chair beside Peter instead of standing behind him. His dark blue eyes searched Peter's face and his pale pink mouth was turned slightly down at the corners. If he wasn't such a creepy asshole, Peter thought, he might even be attractive. "You're sure you can't take a minute out of your day for me?" Quinn reached forward and put his hand on Peter's knee.

Revulsion rolled through Peter like a wave of sewage. The touching thing had only started a few weeks before but it was already becoming a borderline trigger. "Um, I'll be at our normal meeting at two?" Peter offered weakly.

Quinn chuckled, biting his lower lip in a way he probably thought was enticing. "You're cute, Peter. I guess I won't hold you up." He lifted his hand and Peter fought not to sigh in relief. "Next time, though?"

"Sure, Dr Quinn." Peter discarded his unused pipette tip and set the pipette in its holder, and then took his frame full of tubes to the other side of the labs to store it in the refrigerator. Instead of returning to his desk to drape his lab coat over his chair, Peter checked his pockets to make sure he had his phone and wallet and, when he found them, only sent a wave over his shoulder as he walked out of the glass doors.

The laboratory campus Peter worked at was inside Stark Tower, which theoretically meant he could take lunch downstairs in one of the tens of restaurants that populated the place. But he wanted to get _away_ from Quinn, and by how dirty he was feeling, he also wanted a shower. Home wasn't far, and Wade was there.

He walked as fast as he could without running down the glass-lined hallway to the elevator bay. Once he was inside, elevator speeding toward the ground floor, Peter whispered, "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Mr Parker?" JARVIS answered immediately, volume also low and conspiratorial.

Peter almost felt too ashamed to ask, but as they passed the twentieth floor, he murmured, "Can you delete today's footage from the lab?"

JARVIS' moment of hesitation was almost human. "Sir, I believe the footage serves as important documentation--"

"No documentation, JARVIS, I'm not telling anyone." Peter was about ten seconds from stomping his foot like a child. "Please. The last thing I need is for Mr Stark to see that." See _me_ like that, he didn't say. "I'm right in the middle of my thesis, I can't afford to lose this job."

How did an AI radiate disapproval so well? "I cannot delete footage at your request, Mr Parker," JARVIS said, slowly and clearly, "but I can file it as routine and remove any potential flags."

"Thanks," Peter breathed as the elevator doors opened to the lobby. He stepped out, realizing he must look all kinds of weird standing in his white lab coat to the men and women in professional dress, but the people trying to get _into_ the elevators quickly pushed him out of the way.

The low level chatter in the high-ceilinged hall was interrupted by a loud, familiar voice. "Tin Man, who better to accompany your little shipment than me? I already speak Japanese! And I'm incredibly partial to sushi!"

Stark entered through the front doors flanked by Pepper on one side and a man Peter didn't recognize on the other. Behind them, in full costume, Deadpool was dogging Stark's heels. To his credit, Stark was used to Wade's antics and didn't look in the least bothered.

"It doesn't need any extra security, Wilson," he said, not even looking up from his StarkPad. "It's not high priority."

Peter shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat and waited for Wade to notice him. And notice him, he did. He sprinted around Pepper and into Peter's arms, the latter of whom just barely caught all 200 pounds of merc before they both fell. "Petey!" Wade exclaimed, and wouldn't the rumor mill be churning now, "Convince your boss for me!"

A year ago, before Peter realized Wade's advances were genuine, if a bit silly, he probably would have apologized to Stark and attempted to peel Wade away. Today he wrapped his arms around Wade's shoulders, letting the mercenary pretend to hide his face in the crook of his neck, and asked, "What do you need, honey?"

Now Stark reacted, pretending to gag like Peter couldn't see the genuine smile on his face. "He's not getting it, Parker. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

The amused warmth that filled Peter to have Wade in his arms turned to ice. "I was just… taking lunch, Mr Stark," he explained, tightening his hold around Wade.

Stark, on deeper than professional terms with Peter not only for his work with the Avengers but also for how earnestly he approached his research, seemed worried by his sudden stammering. "That's fine, kid. You alright?"

Pepper put her own StarkPad to sleep and leveled Peter with her own concerned look. "Not feeling ill, are you? There was a bug going around…."

"No, Ms Potts. Just, uh, tired." Wade pulled away just enough to look up at him and the blank white eyes of the mask did nothing to hide his skepticism. "Me 'n' Wade will set up a more formal meeting about your… shipment?"

"Good idea, baby boy," Wade said, but his voice was calculating.

Stark cared for him a lot but was also one of the busiest people Peter knew. "If you're sure," he said doubtfully. "Come up with a genuine proposal, Wilson, and I'll think about it." When he walked by them he ruffled Peter's hair like Steve would, and Pepper sent him a kind smile.

That left Peter and Wade standing in the lunchtime crowd in the tower's lobby, Wade still clinging to Peter's waist like a little monkey. "Stark the only reason you came here?" Peter asked with a wry smirk, smoothing his thumb over the indent Wade's nose made in his mask.

"Fuck no, baby boy! You know I missed my favorite bug!" Peter snorted, and then used his free hand to hike Wade's mask up enough to kiss him on the mouth. "Mmm, definitely missed that," he said against Peter's lips, like they hadn't seen each other for weeks instead of hours.

"Come on, Wade, I want out of here," Peter said. He let Wade put his mask back on before taking his hand and practically dragging him out of the lobby and to the side entrance that led to a sparsely-trafficked delivery bay.

"You don't look tired," Wade said, following Peter's lead away from the Tower and toward Korea Town. Peter gently squeezed Wade's hand in acknowledgement. "You look really fuckin' stressed, Pete. More than work stress." His hand went to one of his Deagles strapped to his thigh but didn't actually pull it, something Peter was grateful for. "Need me to take anyone out? Nonlethally, of course?"

 _God_ did Peter want to say yes. He shook his head instead, focused on not losing Wade to the crowd (not like it would be particularly hard to find him again, but still) and getting to the empanada truck where he could drown his sorrows in chicken and flaky bread. 

"Is there anything I can do?" Wade asked. The desperation in his voice, desperation Peter was _sure_ Wade didn't hear underlying his own words, made Peter feel more than guilty for agonizing over Quinn and his creepiness. When he was feeling especially depressed Wade would express how useless he felt in their relationship, or that he didn't want Peter to feel obligated to "take care" of him, like he was Wade's babysitter.

Peter pulled them aside under some construction scaffolding and pushed Wade up against a wall covered in half-peeled posters. "You came to see me today, honey. Well, you came to try to get out of mandatory leave." Wade opened his mouth to deny it but Peter put a finger over his mask to quiet him. "I was thinking about you all morning. You're exactly what I needed."

Wade shifted a bit, so his legs were far apart enough that Peter could stand between them, which he did, and Wade rested his gloved hands on Peter's waist. "If there's _anything_ at all, though, Pete," he said seriously.

"Of course." Peter put his hands on either side of Wade's head and kissed him through the mask. Maybe he couldn't morally have Wade threaten Quinn but the knowledge that he would felt just as good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please click the button that says "show creator style" up at the top. i had to make one for this chapter. youll see why!

"Peter?"

If he were responding to any of Wade's hundreds of nicknames, Peter would have rolled his eyes and hummed through the bathroom door. Hearing his full name made him stop brushing his teeth halfway through, rinse out his mouth, and practically run into the living room from where he assumed Wade was calling him.

The fact that his boyfriend was in his Hello Kitty fleece pajama pants instead of full tactical suit slowed down the panicked racing of Peter's heart. Marginally. "What's the matter, Wade?" Peter asked nervously. He sat down next to Wade on the couch, noticing that the television wasn't on.

Wade, who was at least comfortable enough to be maskless, turned deep brown eyes on Peter because he _knew_ seeing them would only make Peter melt. "I think we need to talk," he said.

"Oh… okay." Peter folded his hands in his lap and ran his tongue over is teeth self-consciously. Wade was looking at him in complete seriousness, scarred lips set in a straight line, brow furrowed. And then he covered his face with his hands and snorted laughter so hard his shoulders shook.

"Can you imagine!?" he crowed, peering between his fingers at Peter. "Your face!"

Peter froze, and then launched forward, pinning Wade underneath him and digging his fingers into the merc's sides to start him laughing in earnest. "You little--ugh!" Peter should have known; he couldn't even remember the last time Wade had initiated a real talk between them. Wade tried to push him off but Peter's spider strength kept him down. "You're lucky you're so cute!" Peter warned him.

"Fuck, I'm sorry!" Wade begged between bouts of laughter. "Okay, Petey, stop! Please!"

Peter took mercy on him and stopped tickling him, but continued to hold Wade down with hands around his wrists, positioned above the taller man's head. "Don't scare me like that, man. You're too good an actor," Peter murmured. He bracketed Wade's chest between his knees and curled over him, trapping them in a close little bubble.

Wade just grinned up at him, a new scar on his upper lip pulling his smile adorably lopsided. "I'm no Ryan Reynolds, but I try," he said. His grin faded a bit, gaze flickering from Peter's eyes to his mouth. "I did, uh, wanna ask you somethin', baby boy."

Peter wasn't at a great angle for kissing, but he made up for it by releasing one of Wade's hands and sliding it under the back of the merc's head to pull him forward. Before he could so much as hint at tongue, though, Wade nipped him hard enough that Peter gasped and dropped him back to the couch. It didn't actually hurt but he still felt obligated to hiss and rub his mouth.

"You can't make out with me to distract me, Petey-pie, I know all your tricks!" Wade warned, waggling the index finger of his free hand in Peter's face. Peter slapped it away and grabbed at his wrist again to re-pin it. Wade, the asshole, just winked at him.

"What, then?" Peter pouted at him, tilting his head in a way he hoped was cute enough to break Wade's train of thought.

It wasn't. Wade shifted his hips a little like Peter didn't weigh anything at all and settled them better on the couch. "I know I'm not as smart as you, but I'm probably more observant." Peter opened his mouth to argue the first point, but Wade continued talking before he could get a word in. "You've been different the past couple of weeks, baby boy. Actually, the last five or six. It's like you're, fuckin', a different person. Or you're _fuckin'_ a different person."

"No, Wade, I would never," Peter scolded, frowning now. "You know that, honey."

"Maybe I know that," Wade conceded, "but I'm serious. Two days ago you jumped about a foot in the air when I put my hand on your shoulder!"

Because Wade touched the shoulder Quinn usually grabbed, when he was coming up behind Peter. He was tired after a long day of work and Wade was being much quieter than normal, and Peter just reacted. He was lucky he didn’t end up on the ceiling he jumped so high.

"You surprised me," Peter said, knowing it was a weak excuse.

Wade didn't push. He just sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the serious, steely glint they held before was gone. "Alright, don't tell me."

He didn't say it sarcastically, or in any way meant to trick Peter into answering him, but Wade's easy acceptance tugged at the large part of Peter's heart the mercenary filled. He sat up and brought Wade's wrists up to his mouth, kissing the shiny scars along the inside although his light grip hadn't left so much as a bruise. "Babe, it's just work stuff. Stress over experiments, you know?"

Wade couldn't take his eyes off of Peter's lips on his skin. "You don't have to explain, Pete," he said softly, a small, contented smile on his face. The fact that Peter was _lying_ to his boyfriend, who had been nothing but supportive and understanding, made him feel almost as grimy as his creepy boss did.

"I do, though, Wade." Peter released Wade's hands and they automatically moved to fit into the back pockets of his jeans, like he had to make sure Peter's "perfect ass" wasn't affected by his stressful job. "I love you. But I don't want to talk about that stuff today." The thought of going into lab made him feel sick, so instead, Peter said, "You're leaving me again tomorrow, right? Let's spend the day together."

Wade slowly shook his head. "My, my, little goody-two-webs playing hooky? I must be rubbing off on you."

"We can do that too," Peter offered, just to see Wade speechless for once.

It lasted about ten seconds. "I love you," Wade said earnestly, and then he sat up, moving his hands to Peter's lower back so he didn't tip backward from the sudden movement. "Fucking Christ do I love you," he murmured against Peter's lips. Peter smiled and kissed him right back.

* * *

Peter wasn't allowed to be on the Helicarrier when Wade, Nat, and Clint were sent off on a Quinjet to God-knows-where, but Spider-Man was. He stood in full costume with his feet planted and arms folded as the three of them got a last-minute rundown from Coulson on the landing pad, Wade scarily still and quiet as he listened.

After a few minutes, Coulson shook each of their hands and left with another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent back to the interior of the Helicarrier. Peter hesitated, not sure if he would be interrupting preparations between the three, but Wade skipped over to him while Nat and Clint talked among themselves. 

"I'll miss you, Spidey!" Wade cried, lifting Peter into a crushing hug. "Don't forget about me! Or replace me! Unless you're replacing me with Chadwick Boseman, then I'll forgive you."

Peter freed his arms enough to hug Wade back, laughing at his half-nonsensical rambling. "How could I forget about you? You bought me a body pillow of yourself and slept on the case last night."

Wade set Peter back on his feet but held them close together. "But what if my manly musk fades?"

"Wheels up in one, Deadpool," Clint warned from behind them. Peter looked over Wade's shoulder just as Clint winked at him and then boarded the Quinjet, Nat right behind him.

"Go on, honey, before I lock you away in our apartment," Peter said. Instead of just lifting his mask to his nose, Peter pulled it completely off and studied Wade without a filter. Studied Deadpool, really, but Wade was still generally uncomfortable removing his mask in front of S.H.I.E.L.D. so Peter wouldn't ask him to. "I love you," he added sincerely.

Wade pressed a masked kiss to the top of Peter's head. "You too, Webs. Just a few days, I promise." Wade kissed him again, at his temple and then the bridge of his nose, and then he pulled away without looking back. 

Peter stood on the tarmac as he boarded and then as the jet lifted into the air. He watched it disappear in the opposite direction of the Helicarrier, moving hundreds of miles per hour to some far off target that Peter didn't have the clearance to know about. Peter didn't fault Wade for leaving--quite the opposite. If contract work for S.H.I.E.L.D. kept him from taking dangerous, unverified jobs, Peter was all for it.

The "leaving him in New York for long periods of time" thing was an unfortunate side effect.

"Is he gone?" Peter turned and smiled faintly at Stark, who was standing at the entrance to the upper deck of the Helicarrier in a tee-shirt and black jeans instead of a suit or his armor. "Good. Thought he'd never leave."

Peter rolled his eyes as Stark walked over to stand next to him. "He's not that bad, Mr Stark. I happen to think he's great."

"You also 'happen' to be fucking him, so I won't take your word," Stark deadpanned. Peter pressed his mask against his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. "You heading back to the tower? I can give you a ride," he offered, lifting his hand and waving StarkJet keys hanging off of his middle finger.

"Please." Peter had packed his civvies so he could head straight to work after seeing Wade off, unwilling to go back to their silent apartment and mope while he got dressed. Wade rarely broke his promises about mission length--he had a knack for estimating exactly how long they would take--so Peter wasn't worried about getting into the habit of crying himself to sleep or anything. Plus that body pillow.

Stark was willing to let him be quiet for a few minutes, but there was a reason Peter and Wade got along so well before they started dating. "You're really quiet, kid," he said when Peter strapped himself into the passenger seat of the jet, wearing jeans and a flannel button down that would be hidden by his lab coat all day anyway.

Peter was long past embarrassment at how sappy he and Wade were. "Miss my boyfriend," he answered honestly, but even Stark sticking his tongue out couldn't get him to smile.

"You two are like teenagers, I swear." Stark banked west, away from the still-rising sun, and the jet shot off even faster. "To be honest, I didn't think government work was Deadpool's thing."

"It's not. He's doing it because I asked." Peter could feel his face heating under Stark's disbelieving look. He shifted in his seat, staring out into the sky rather than back at Stark. "He, uh. I was nervous about the whole mercenary thing," Peter explained.

Stark snorted. "From what I heard it was more than 'nervous'. Two years ago you hated him."

That… was true. He hated Deadpool for acting judge, jury, and executioner for profit. And he hated how indiscriminately violent he was in general, leaving shell casings and bodies in his wake wherever he went. But working with the Avengers shifted Peter's priorities a bit--he wouldn't ever kill a human, sure, but a quick death was certainly Deadpool showing mercy.

Wade had a period right before they started dating where he tried to be "good" because that’s what Peter wanted. Suffice to say it didn't work out the way he thought it would, but his willingness to _try_ encouraged Peter to give him a chance. A year later and he had a respectable, government job. Kinda.

The StarkJet touched down on the landing pad on Stark Tower in just a few minutes. Peter unbuckled himself and prepared to leave the cockpit, but Stark held out a hand to stop him. "Listen, kid," he said slowly.

"Mr Stark?" Peter asked, sitting back down and looking from Stark's hand to his face. "Is something wrong?"

"It's about your research."

Peter's heart dropped into his stomach. "Sorry, Mr Stark, I know I didn't come in yesterday but I wanted to stay with Wade--"

"Kid, you're not in trouble!" Stark said, raising his voice to be heard over Peter's stammered run-on sentence. "I think you're doing fine. But Quinn told me there are some concepts in your thesis introduction that aren't well-researched, and he thinks your defense will fail if you don't get on it. He asked me to tell you if I saw you yesterday. I didn't, so I'm telling you now."

Peter wanted to cry. "My introduction?" he repeated weakly.

Stark nodded but he was starting to frown. "Don't ask why he told me. I think he wanted it to be more, uh, authoritative? I'll have to read it for myself--Parker?"

God, he was going to have a panic attack. Quinn was trying to sabotage him now, fucking around with his research because Peter wouldn't have _lunch_ with him, telling Stark he was going to fail his defense, trying to, what, get him fired? Peter took a deep, deliberate breath but it was more like a wheeze. 

"Peter, sit up straight, come on kid." Starks hands were on him then, one on his shoulder and the other against his sternum. "Your little boy toy will kill me if I let you die here. Deep breaths, alright?"

Peter tried again and managed to get some oxygen. He felt stupid and weak. He wanted Wade.

"I know you do, kid," Stark soothed. Had Peter been talking out loud? "He'll be back, annoying me to death, before you know it." Stark hesitated, still rubbing his hand slowly up and down Peter's chest to guide his breathing, and then said, "Maybe you shouldn't go in today."

 _And give Quinn another reason to fuck with me!?_ Peter thought wildly. "No, sir, I'm okay," he said. His lungs were killing him, making it hard to sit up like Stark wanted him to. "I didn't mean to freak out."

Stark squeezed his shoulder. "It’s alright. I just--just want you to know that I do care about you. A lot. Bring your thesis to me at any time, I'll help you fix it up. Bruce will too, he's so much better at that squishy science shit than I am." Peter huffed through his nose. "Or if you just want to talk, kid, I'm there."

Peter got his breathing back under control and blinked the black spots out of his eyes. "Thanks, Mr Stark," he sighed, tilting his head back toward the ceiling and swallowing hard. "I'm fine now. I don't want to be late." He stood on shaky legs and Stark didn't attempt to hold him back, but his expression was obviously doubtful.

"Right." Stark stood up as well and used their even heights to look Peter straight in the eyes. "Tell JARVIS you need me any time you're in the tower and I'll be right there."

Stark's earnest, if a bit clumsy, way of showing he cared finally made Peter smile. "Thank you," he said again. Stark patted him on the upper arm and then led the way out of the jet.

The fresh air so high up above the city cleared Peter's head. Stark, already moving toward a posse of important looking people in suits, called back to him, "Chin up, kid!" Peter sent him a thumbs up and all of them disappeared into the building.

Peter's phone buzzed in his back pocket as soon as the doors closed. He fumbled for it and frowned at the screen--it was probably just another grad student looking for some polymerase or other.

It was a text from Wade instead. It read: _not sposta text u baby boy_ (Crying Face) _but u looked real sad when i left_ (Pensive Face) _i love u a lot ok?_ (Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes)(Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes)(Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes) _no stress while im gone_ (Angry Face) _dnt text me back!!!_

Wade. Was. So. Cute. Peter smiled at his phone for a good five minutes before he saw the time and realized he would actually be late in a minute. He shouldered his backpack, filled with his suit and the pancake lunch Wade packed for him, and made his way inside and to the elevators.

Quinn wasn't even there when Peter peered through the glass. Instead, Anna Maria was running her first PCR of the day, filling wells in an ice bucket. She was a new chemistry grad student working under Doctor Vanessa Hadfield, having joined at the start of the Fall semester, and was still feeling her way around. Peter waited until she was done with the last row before walking in so he didn't accidentally distract her.

"Peter," she greeted with a smile and a wave of her gloved hand. "Missed you yesterday."

Peter smiled back and shrugged on his lab coat. "Yeah, had to call sick. My boyfriend went on a business trip this morning so we spent the day together."

Anna Maria folded her hands together and made a high pitched noise. "That's so cute! When will he be back?"

"Oh, a few days." Peter watched her load the wells into the machine and set it to run, leaning back against his lab bench with his arms crossed over his chest. "It's nothing new, but every time he goes I miss him."

"That's adorable, Peter," Anna Maria said. "Oh, hold that thought! I have to run and talk with Lisa downstairs for a minute. I want to hear _all about_ your boyfriend."

Peter held in the urge to ask her not to leave and just smiled at her instead. "Sure thing, Anna Maria. I'll be here." When she left, the lab was silent again. The other three post-docs who worked in their suite were all at a two week conference in San Francisco and weren't due back for a week at least. Peter would have to brave the space alone until Anna Maria got back.

He sighed, pulled on some nitrile gloves, and went to the refrigerators to pull out the last of his spider silk protein stock. No one but Stark knew it came from _him_ , so he had to keep up the illusion that he was ordering it in with the help of some finance manipulation and falsified data sheets. 

For some reason, it wasn't on the top shelf in the minus twenty where he left it. Peter frowned for a moment, and then crouched, searching the shelf below it. And the shelf below that.

"Good morning, Peter," Quinn said, standing not two feet behind him. "A shame you're wearing your coat already. You're in very good shape."

 _If his dick is out right now I'm going to rip it off,_ Peter thought hysterically. Just in case, he stood up and closed the refrigerator door before turning around. Lucky for both of them Quinn was fully clothed, but the leering grin he was wearing made Peter wish he had on an extra sweater or three.

"Please don't make comments like that, Dr Quinn," he said as firmly as he dared. The panic attack from earlier was creeping up on him again.

"James," Quinn corrected. "Am I making you uncomfortable, Peter? I really don't mean to."

Of course he didn't. That's why he'd been harassing Peter off and on for two months. "You are, _Dr Quinn_." Quinn cocked an eyebrow and Peter unconsciously balled his hands into tight fists.

"Did Mr Stark tell you about my concerns?" Quinn asked. He took a step closer to Peter, backing him into the cool metal door behind him. "Do you need remedial lessons in protein synthesis, Peter? I'm sure that would delay your defense by at least a semester."

Peter was used to hiding weaknesses in front of enemies, but normally he was wearing a mask. Something in Quinn's smirk told him he wasn't keeping his fear inside as much as he thought he was. "I don't, sir. Mr Stark said I can talk to Dr Banner about making changes."

Quinn seemed to deflate a bit. "I see," he said eventually. "Good. I'll need to finalize them, of course."

"I know," Peter confirmed with a nod. Quinn gave him a once over, lingering on his chest and the fly of his jeans--Peter very carefully didn't pull his lab coat closed--and then nodded back, leaving the lab and continuing on down the hall.

When he was out of sight, Peter slid down the refrigerator door until he was sitting on the linoleum floor, shaking with adrenaline and disgust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont worry, wade will be back from his mission before the end of the fic


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special warning for sexual assault in this chapter, but i believe its non-explicit and passes quickly

Wade really splurged on that body pillow. Peter was sure it was stuffed with down by how soft it was, but didn't want to cut a hole in it to check. He slept on top of it the first night--Wade would have a field day if he found out--on the off chance that it would keep him from being so homesick. It definitely didn't work. If anything he had _more_ nightmares, because it didn't feel like Wade and only got warm when he hugged it long enough.

Peter wasn't even attempting to sleep anymore. He sat on their couch in the dark every night, wrapped in a blanket with his Deadpool body pillow held between his legs and up against his chest, reading through his text history with Wade from before he left. The sheer volume of colorful emojis the man used made Peter smile despite himself.

The last couple of days were especially hard on him. Stark was called to his Los Angeles headquarters, he hadn't heard from Wade since his last sweet text, and while Quinn didn't directly speak to him again, the looks he sent Peter from across the lab made his skin crawl. For the first time since he declared his major as a freshman in NYU, Peter was doubting his position in science.

Peter was even starting to doubt his role in Quinn's harassment. When it started, Quinn had just moved from a lab four floors down. He was taking over as Peter's mentor after his previous PI, Doctor Shinzou, went on sabbatical to help his wife take care of their new baby. Quinn just seemed overly friendly at first, constantly asking to meet with Peter about his research progress and his undergraduate work.

But then the meetings got uncomfortable. Quinn started to touch Peter's shoulders and hands, and sat next to him instead of across his desk while they talked. Peter nervously negotiated their meetings down to once every two weeks, telling Quinn their almost daily meetings were cutting into his experiment hours. That didn't _stop_ Quinn, but at least Peter wasn't locked in a room with him when it happened.

The fact that it wasn't slowing down left a bad taste in Peter's mouth. Allowing Quinn to monopolize his time in the beginning, laughing at his jokes and not shrugging off his hands, must have told the older man that his flirting was welcome. Peter was in too deep to stop it and it was his fault. Then another thought hit him: did this count as cheating? Peter felt suddenly sick.

His phone rang just as the clock struck six am, the vibrations so startling he almost dropped it. Luckily his sticky fingers kept it from landing on the floor, but he fumbled it _again_ when he saw Deadpool's logo on the screen.

"Wade?" he said as he answered the call. "Are you coming home soon?"

Wade sighed and Peter buried his face into the top of his body pillow. " _Not soon enough,_ " Wade replied. But then he continued, " _Twelve more hours, baby boy, and then we can have nasty, filthy reunion sex._ "

Peter choked a laugh and wiped his suddenly wet eyes on the pillow case. "I'm looking forward to it," he murmured.

" _You doing okay without me, sweetie? You sound sad._ "

"Yeah, I'm okay," Peter said softly. "I miss you."

Wade made a sympathetic noise down the line. " _Are you eating? And sleeping? How's Deadpillow treatin' you?_ "

Peter laughed again but the sound was wet with tears. "No, no, and he's not the same. I think I got three hours and two meals in the last three days."

" _Pete!_ " Wade sounded absolutely scandalized. " _Baby boy,_ I'm _the one who falls apart when you're away, not the other way around! What's wrong?_ "

"Still work," Peter said honestly.

" _But what part of work? Your experiments? Your coworkers? Your boss?_ " Peter made an involuntary, low, wounded sound that made even Wade shut up. He paused for a moment. " _Your boss,_ " Wade said again, but this time it wasn't a question.

Peter squeezed his pillow harder to his chest. "Just… a difference of opinion, babe," he tried to explain.

" _Nuh-uh,_ " Wade said, and curse his boyfriend for knowing him so damn well. " _When you worked for that fuckhead Jameson you had a 'difference of opinion', and even he never made you this upset. Does your boss need a Glock-assisted trepanning?_ "

 _Yes,_ Peter thought harshly. "No, Wade, don't even think about it. It's okay--"

The sound of a gun cocking over the phone startled Peter into silence. " _He made you_ cry, _baby boy, it's not okay. I'm ten seconds from commandeering the Quinjet and giving him something to cry about._ "

"Wade, stop. I don't want to talk about it, alright? I missed you, I want to hear your voice, I don't want to think about work."

" _You've been saying that for months, Peter!_ " Peter could hear Wade begin to pace, his steps echoing in whatever room he was currently standing. " _I'll let it go for exactly thirteen more hours. After that, all bets are off._ "

Peter frowned. "Thirteen?"

" _You're right, an hour won't be enough time for me to re-memorize you. Let's make it fourteen._ " Peter was glad he was in private, and in the dark, so no one could see his brilliant red blush.

* * *

"Are you ignoring my emails now, Peter? That's rather childish."

Peter wasn't kidding when he told Wade he was running on empty sleep-wise. It took a good ten seconds for him to understand what Quinn was even complaining about, and another ten for him to care. "Emails?" he replied slowly.

Quinn was standing at the entrance to the break room on their floor, where Peter was desperately nursing a mug of black coffee and highlighting his way through an interesting background source Anna Maria sent him. His vision was blurry with sleep deprivation in a way it hadn't been since he got bitten by that spider and tossed his glasses.

"Yes, Peter, emails. About the group lab meeting I set up at Aretsky's this afternoon. You never confirmed."

Peter didn't remember an email like that, especially not from Quinn, in the last week or so. "Sorry, Dr Quinn, I've been distracted," Peter said, trying his best to focus on Quinn.

There was a pause. "I can see that, Peter. Home trouble?"

Nothing unrelated to Peter's experiments was _at all_ Quinn's business, but Peter's inhibitions were lowered just enough for him to say, "Boyfriend's out of town."

"I didn't know you were in a relationship," Quinn said, voice soft and almost curious.

Peter shrugged. "Guess it never came up." He uncapped the pen on the other side of his highlighter and held it above the back of his left hand. "What time is the meeting, sir?"

Quinn looked like Peter had interrupted a very detailed train of thought. "It's… at one thirty. I booked us all a private room, instead of the main floor. A lot of our work is patent pending, you know. Don't want it getting to the wrong ears."

"Oh, yeah. Of course." Peter nodded and smiled as best he could after writing the time and place on his hand so he didn't forget. "I'll be there, Dr Quinn."

Another PI walked in and Quinn smiled tightly at her. "See you, Peter," he said on his way out.

Peter muddled his way through the paper until he really couldn't concentrate anymore, and by that time it was nearing one. He stood up, rinsed his mug out, and put it on the drying rack near the sink. Then he shuffled back to the lab to drop off everything except his phone and wallet. The post docs were already gone, probably heading to the meeting together; they were so tightly knit Peter saw them as more of a clique than a team of scientists.

He walked to 46th street mostly through muscle memory, the sun doing nothing to wake him up. It didn't help that the low level spidey-sense alert that always rang in his head when Wade was away was _also_ muddling his thoughts. Hopefully Quinn would just talk at them for an hour or so while he ate expensive food, and then Peter could wait the remaining hours until Wade was home by himself.

Entering the lobby at Aretsky's Patroon made Peter feel severely underdressed. Everyone in the main dining room was wearing a suit or a flattering dress, and here he was, with three-day-old jeans and hair mussed to shit. If he were any more tired he'd probably have smelled his armpit just in case.

A host came up to him, obviously looking down his nose. "Reservation?" he drawled.

"Quinn?" Peter asked right back, crossing his arms and purposefully straightening his spine. He was still much shorter than the host but it helped him feel like he wasn't being figuratively _and_ literally looked down on.

After checking a paper list--paper!--the host motioned him to follow. Peter walked upstairs to the much quieter series of private rooms, and only momentarily hesitated when the man gestured to the only one that had its shades drawn.

He opened the door and stepped inside, and the host closed it behind him. Peter startled a bit when the handle was pulled from his fingers.

"Hello, Peter." Peter turned around, taking in the table set for eight with only one person in the room.

"Dr Quinn," Peter replied hesitantly. "Am I early?"

"You sure are," Quinn said, chuckling and pulling a chair out. "It's only about one fifteen. I don't think your colleagues are going to be nearly as early as you."

Peter didn't miss the fact that Quinn was seating him next to his own seat, but didn't argue, preferring to sit down before he passed out. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, resisting the urge to put his elbows on the table and lean against his hands.

"No worries." Quinn sat next to him and smiled. "Wine?"

Peter just shook his head. "I don't really drink, Dr Quinn," he murmured.

"I see." Quinn poured himself a glass and set the bottle back on the table. "Peter, I wanted to apologize." That caught Peter's attention. He looked up from his dead stare at the gleaming dinner plate in front of him to study Quinn. "I shouldn't have told Mr Stark my worries about your thesis. I'm your mentor, I'm supposed to work directly with you instead of taking it to him."

Peter was momentarily speechless. "Oh. Thank you," he said haltingly.

Quinn smiled again, holding his wine glass in one hand. "The truth is, I feel like your defense is coming up quickly. I don't really want you to leave the lab." He set his glass down on the table and Peter watched him, a frown slowly pulling at his eyebrows. "I want to get to know you."

The next few moments happened very quickly for Peter. One of Quinn's hands was on his wrist, dragging it out of Peter's own lap and pressing it to Quinn's clothed but half-hard dick. The man used his other hand to grab a fistful of hair at the nape of Peter's neck and pull him into a bruising kiss.

Instinct took over. Peter twisted his hand, grabbing Quinn's wrist instead and using all of his strength to shatter the bones, making the man cry out. Then he kicked backward, toppling his chair and somersaulting over himself, and shot a web at Quinn, trapping him in his seat.

Then Peter turned around and retched, scrubbing at his mouth with his shirtsleeve while Quinn cursed and struggled.

"Fuck you," he said through pained breaths. "Fuck you, you fucking cocksucker." Part of him wanted to turn around and punch Quinn, but another, bigger part made him leave the private room and slam the door behind himself.

Peter practically ran back down the stairs and out onto the street. Then he scrambled for his phone and dialed Stark's personal number.

He picked up on the first ring. " _Parker? What's--_ "

"Mr Stark," he gasped, "please help!"

" _I'll be right there, kid._ "

* * *

Peter was extremely lucky the Helicarrier was temporarily docked at the Columbia Street port. He took the longest taxi ride of his life into Brooklyn, scrubbing at his mouth and wiping his hands on his jeans over and over again.

When the taxi dropped him off at Port Authority Peter ducked behind a nearby building, took a spare mask out of his back pocket, and pulled it on. Then he took off at a dead sprint toward the docks, past security and vaulting over a few barrier gate arms until he reached the water.

The Helicarrier was close enough that Peter leapt across the gap, shooting a web at one of the radio towers on the deck to pull himself farther. In his haste, he landed hard on the tarmac, probably scraping bloody holes in his jeans and pushing gravel into his palms, but at the moment he didn't give a shit. All that mattered was Stark's jet touching down on the runway as soon as he stood up.

On his heels, a Godsend much earlier than expected, was another Quinjet. Because he called Stark directly, the older man practically fell out of his jet as soon as the hatch opened and ran over to him. "Christ, Parker," he whispered, hands hovering over Peter's shoulders like he was afraid to touch him.

Peter ripped off his mask and took heaving breaths, staring desperately at Stark with tears in his eyes.

"Baby boy?" Wade asked from a hundred feet away, the first off his own jet.

Peter would have run to him if he could. Instead, he burst into tears, sobbing like a child into his bleeding hands. Warm arms were around him in seconds, Wade's familiar voice humming in his ear, the smell of leather and sweat and _Wade_ surrounding him. Peter wanted to throw up.

Wade lowered them both to the ground, Peter unable to stand on his own feet anymore, and tilted his face up. His low stream of chatter halted at the sight of Peter's red and swollen mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Wade, I'm sorry," he keened, letting his hands drop to his sides instead of touching Wade. "Please, I didn't want to, I'm sorry!"

"Peter, don't apologize, what happened? Come on sweetheart, tell me what happened?" Wade coaxed, practically pulling Peter into his lap instead of letting him sit on the tarmac.

"Quinn grabbed me, he made me… he kissed me, I couldn't stop him--" Peter looked up, past Wade, in time to see Stark go dead still and then pull out his phone. When Peter turned back to Wade he was just as motionless. "Please don't be mad at me," Peter begged, wishing he could see Wade's eyes instead of the blank white lenses of his mask.

Wade shifted him so Peter could hide his face in the crook of Wade's neck. "Baby, I couldn't be less mad at you," he said, but his voice was flat. "Calm down darlin', my little Spidey. You'll make yourself sick."

Peter sucked in a shaky breath against Wade's suit. "I should have told you--"

"Hush, Petey. You should have, but it's okay that you didn't." Wade stood up in one fluid movement, picking Peter up in a way that would have been embarrassing if he wasn't already humiliated beyond belief. "Tin Man, mind giving your old pal Deadpool a lift to the tower?"

That was the _last_ place Peter wanted to go, but he also didn't want to let Wade out of his sight. He let himself be carried onto Stark's jet but insisted on sitting on one of the benches instead of in Wade's lap. Wade wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, detailing his time overseas without any details (but Peter could tell he was in East Asia) and occasionally reaching behind himself as if to check Bea and Arthur were still there.

Peter was never really much of a crier so his tears dried up in just a few minutes; Wade pulled his mask up to the bridge of his nose to kiss the side of his head, which also helped. He felt numb and empty, like Quinn took the last of the fight out of him. He didn't know what would happen to his research or his fellowship. He wanted to go home.

They touched down on small landing pad on Stark Tower much too soon. Deadpool--and he was Deadpool, now--was on the ground before the jet even switched off. Peter pulled himself together and ran after him, stumbling out of exhaustion but still worried what Deadpool would do without him there.

"JARVIS?" Deadpool asked in a cheery voice as he walked through the penthouse hallway. "Can you take me to the holding cell where the soon-to-be-deceased Quinn is residing?"

"Wade--"

"Of course, sir," JARVIS replied, and how was it possible for an AI to sound so smug?

Deadpool entered the elevator doors that opened for him and Peter ran in before the doors closed. "Wade, don't do this," Peter rasped, pulling at his boyfriend's arm to get him to look down. The elevator was rushing down so fast it made Peter feel a bit dizzy. "Please don't, it was my fault--"

Deadpool laughed, dark and humorless. "I find that hard to believe, baby boy. You don't have to watch."

The elevator doors opened again in one of the basement floors and Deadpool stepped out, facing straight down the brightly lit hallway as if Peter wasn't even there. He did let Peter intertwine their fingers, probably because he was clinging to Deadpool's left side instead of his right and left the mercenary's dominant hand free.

The holding cell Stark's security locked Quinn in was down a corridor with deceptively soft carpet and pretty blue walls. It didn't put Peter at ease at all; on the contrary, he wished it was as white and sterile as a real police cell.

There were two guards standing outside one door who didn't even attempt to stop Deadpool from kicking the metal door open. Peter let Deadpool's hand slip out of his and stood at the threshold while Deadpool stormed in. He was slightly at an angle, the cell surrounded by walls and not bars, but he could still see Deadpool stalk over to a babbling Quinn and pull one of his Desert Eagles. 

"You _really_ fucked up, shitlicker," Deadpool growled. 

When a shot rang out, Peter shook off his fear and quickly put himself between Quinn and Deadpool. "For me?" he murmured, stepping forward so he wasn't directly in the path of the gun but still blocking Deadpool's line of sight. The man was a creep but Peter still didn't want him to die.

Deadpool just nodded his head in Quinn's direction and Peter turned around. "Oh, ew," he practically squeaked in surprise, moving around Deadpool to peer out from behind him instead. Quinn, the fucking coward, pissed himself sitting on the metal bench that was the only furniture in the otherwise empty, windowless room. There was a bullet hole between his legs, barely a half-inch away from his dick. 

"Let's make a deal, sweetie," Deadpool said, holstering his gun and turning his head slightly to talk to Peter. "I leave this little fucker alive because I love you. But I make sure he _never_ thinks of you again because _you_ love _me?_ "

"Y-your boyfriend is _Deadpool?_ " Quinn whimpered.

Peter did love Wade, and Deadpool, an awful lot. "I trust you," he said, honestly believing Deadpool would make the right decision. Then he looped two fingers into Deadpool's belt for courage and looked dead at Quinn. "I hope you live to regret this," he told the trembling man. He got a terrified whine in response that just made him grin.

Stark was waiting for Peter at the elevators. "Can we talk?" Stark asked, looking anywhere but directly at him.

Peter rubbed at his mouth again, bone-deep exhaustion starting to set in, but he could still dredge up a smile for Stark. "Sure," he said softly.

* * *

The Avengers team space on the very upper floors of the tower gave a beautiful view of Manhattan at night. Peter stared out of the window, holding the third cup of hot chocolate Wade made for him so far, leaned into Wade's side on the couch.

Peter heard Stark and Rogers talking from the other side of the room, for once calm and not arguing. Clint and Nat just got back from debrief--Wade was excused because Fury had a soft spot a mile wide--and were both teasing Banner about something that happened during the last Avengers meeting.

Wade was nervous about having his mask off in front of all those people, but he did keep it pulled up so Peter could lean over and kiss him whenever he liked. Peter got to wash his face in Stark's private bathroom and practically scrubbed his lips to bleeding until Wade stopped him. His healing factor had them back to normal within a few hours but he wasn't sure he'd be able to shake the feeling of someone other than Wade kissing him for a long while.

He thought it was more than kind for everyone to sit around doing nothing with him because he wasn't ready to go home. Even Wade, who _must_ have been missing their bed, just sat on the couch with his booted feet up watching The Golden Girls with Peter held under his arm. 

"Where can we get Stark's streaming service?" Wade whispered to him, as if being too loud would break the mood. Peter blinked, and then lifted his head to press his lips to Wade's jaw.

"Dunno," he replied sleepily. "I can ask him for you."

Wade's face, even though Peter could only see the bottom half for now, lit up like it was Christmas. "You're a fuckin' angel, Petey-pie!" he (quietly) cheered.

Peter's spider-like reflexes kept a pillow and blanket tossed at them from knocking his hot chocolate everywhere. Stark was suddenly standing in front of the television, smirking down at the two of them. "Alright, lovebirds, I'm going to bed," he said. "You're welcome to sleep out here, but there's plenty of empty rooms. Ask JARVIS if you need directions."

"Thanks, Iron Giant," Wade began with an answering smirk, but Peter pushed the pillow and blanket onto him and put his hot chocolate on the table before he and Stark could start bickering. Then Peter stood up and wrapped his arms around Stark's shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

Stark cleared his throat and patted Peter on the back a few times until he pulled away. Peter expected him to look embarrassed, but his expression was vaguely proud. "See you tomorrow, kid," he said.

"Night, Mr Stark," Peter replied. Wade grabbed his hand and pulled him back into his arms like a jealous kid worried his best friend was going to play with someone else.

"Wilson," Stark said with a laugh, inclining his head toward Wade, and then he left the common room.

Peter turned back to Wade. "Let's go to bed in one of those rooms," he said, brushing his thumb over Wade's scarred mouth. "I want you out of the suit yesterday. _Just_ to sleep," he added quickly, but the wry twist to Wade's lips told him the mercenary was thinking that anyway.

"Good plan, Webs. Let's sleep naked in Stark's sheets so we can rub it in his face." Wade practically jumped off the couch, bundling the blanket in his arms. "Maybe literally," he said thoughtfully, taking the pillow too. Peter snickered at him and Wade grinned. "Let me take care of you tonight, baby boy. We can have a 'feelings' talk tomorrow, over pancakes or… whatever you want."

"Pancakes sound nice. Missed your cooking." Peter managed to stand without stumbling but it was a near thing. "I think they might be dinner pancakes though, I could sleep forever."

Wade nodded seriously, muttering, "breakfast for dinner, I like the way you think." Then he shoved the bedding back into Peter's hands. "Last one downstairs is a rotten egg!" Wade jumped over the back of the couch and ran out of the room, leaving Peter to laugh and attempt to chase after him with a significant handicap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a reminder that most sexual harassment cases do _not_ end happily. many scientists, particularly women and lgbtq+ people, have chosen to drop out of doctoral programs or leave science altogether because of the sexual harassment they experience at the hands of colleagues and superiors. peter is lucky to have the support he does! please try to be supportive to anyone you know who is a victim
> 
> if there is interest, i might write a fluffy spideypool epilogue, but for now i feel that this is a good place to end
> 
> thank you for reading!


	4. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stark and peters talk! peter has some ideas about reporting assault that i dont share--i think that fear is a huge motivator and the harassment of anyone else by a victims harasser is _not_ on the victim, even if they dont report anything. but thats just me, you may have a different opinion
> 
> thank you for your patience! instead of a spideypool-centric epilogue here, please consider reading my most recent work: [**do you get the message im tryna send to you?**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14678948) its just a cute, fluffy fic about peter and wade being adorable : )
> 
> thanks again for reading, im so blown away by the positive response and the amount of people who were subscribed to this story. youre all incredible!

Despite being the one to ask Peter to talk, Stark stayed very silent on the elevator up to the penthouse. He had his arms crossed and was unendingly tapping his foot on the floor, less able to sit still than _Wade_ , which was saying something. Peter had the urge to comfort him in some way but also got the feeling it wouldn't be accepted--Stark might make him get a psychological screening if he showed worry about anyone except himself right then. He might make him get a screening anyway.

"Want a drink?" Stark asked, already walking away before the elevator even opened. He went straight to the bar while Peter chose to sit down instead.

Peter scrubbed at his mouth again. "No thanks, Mr Stark," he said politely. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Wade was downstairs, most likely murdering a man in Peter's name, but he was too numb to get properly Moral about it. "Um, I didn't mean to let Q-Quinn… to let it get that far. I know I should have stopped him earlier--"

Stark held up a hand, his back to Peter, and Peter quickly stopped talking. "I'm gonna need you to stop _that_ , kid." He finished making his drink and immediately lifted the glass to his mouth, drinking half of it so fast he probably didn't even taste it. Peter watched him with his hands folded in his lap.

Eventually, Stark sat on the couch adjacent to Peter's and put his glass on the end table. "Alright," he sighed heavily, dragging his hand down his face, one of his legs still bouncing restlessly. "Alright, Parker. Here's what's gonna happen with Quinn." Peter sat stock-still and listened. "If your pet mercenary hasn't killed him, he's going to be banned from researching with anyone affiliated with StarkTech. I'll keep the situation anonymous but NSF and NIH are going to get personal letters from me warning them against awarding him grants. And he won't be allowed within a few hundred feet of the Tower for the rest of his life."

Peter raised his sleeve to his lips. "Mr Stark, I'm not worth--"

"Oh no, we're not having that conversation," Stark said, interrupting him once again. He rubbed at his chest around the Arc Reactor in what Peter recognized as an anxious gesture. "You know I'd move heaven and earth for you, kid, but this time you're only the half of it. I'm not gonna let Quinn abuse anyone else because you wanted to go easy on him."

_Anyone else_. Peter, who usually prided himself on standing up for other people as Spider-Man, didn't realize how absolutely selfish he was being for not telling anyone about Quinn until Stark laid it out for him. If Quinn had touched anyone else in the lab--but what if he had already? What if Peter was one of two, or _more_ , that Quinn was preying on during his lab tenure?

It made him sick to think about. "I understand, sir. I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking," he said quietly. 

Stark reached over and then hesitated like he wanted to clap Peter on the shoulder but thought better about it. "I didn't say that to blame you, Peter. I know you were scared and you didn't want to tell anyone. But now, as your boss, it's my turn to step up." Stark picked up his glass and knocked back the rest of his drink. "JARVIS, review the footage from Quinn's lab and flag any private conversations he's had with other members of staff."

"Including what Mr Parker asked me to file as routine?" JARVIS, the little snitch, asked in a pseudo-innocent voice. 

The look that Stark aimed at Peter made him feel even shittier than before. "Everything, JARVIS. Send it to the computer in my lab."

"Of course, sir," JARVIS said.

"No more telling JARVIS to hide stuff from me, Parker," Stark said seriously, but a smirk was starting to lift one side of his mouth. "If an AI could love anyone it'd be you. How you got _my_ invention wrapped around your little finger I'll never guess," he said, eyes narrowed.

Peter found himself smiling back. "I won't, Mr Stark, I promise. Thanks for giving me another chance."

Stark waved him off dismissively. "It's not a chance-based system, kid. I am gonna have to put you on paid leave for the next few weeks though, while I line up a new mentor for you. One that's been _thoroughly_ vetted. Got any experiments you need to finish up?"

"Nothing I can't start again later," Peter said with a quick shake of his head. "Are you sure, Mr Stark? I'd be fine working without a mentor for a while."

Stark leaned against the back of the couch and huffed a laugh. "I know you would, but something tells me the regenerating degenerate would rather have you home whether he says it out loud or not."

Peter's face flushed hot and he ducked his head. Wade wouldn't take a job while Peter was off, so they'd have the chance to just be together for a while like they hadn't since Peter was in undergrad and had at least part of the summer to himself. "Thank you so much, sir, I really appreciate it," he said, trying to project how grateful he really was.

Before Stark could answer, Wade swanned into the room, still decked out in full gear. "I'm done!" he said cheerfully.

Probably taking Wade's entrance as his cue to leave, Stark rose from his seat. "We'll talk more later, kid," he said, and ruffled Peter's hair on his way past. Peter felt a paternal warmth from him he hadn't experienced since he was a kid and it did an incredible job in calming him down.

"Did I interrupt your conversation?" Wade asked, sounding unrepentant.

"No." Peter reached his hand up and Wade automatically took it. "Would you mind sitting with me, for a little while? I'm not ready to go home."

Wade lifted his mask to the bridge of his nose with his free hand, revealing a new scar from the center of his left cheekbone down to his chin that Peter ached to kiss, and leaned over to press his lips to Peter's temple. "Anything you want, Petey. You think Tom Servo's got hot chocolate in this bitch?"

Peter laughed and used his hold on Wade's hand to pull him down into a proper kiss. How this perfect man came to love him he'd never know, possible premeditated murder of a civilian aside. "Why don't you go check?" Peter murmured against his upper lip. "I'll put something good on TV."

Wade stood up and saluted him. "Aye aye, Spidey!" he said, and then went to ransack the penthouse kitchenette. Peter watched him for a long time, forgetting all about the television.


End file.
